


He loves me, he loves me not

by Gippel



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anger Management, Coming Out, Drunk Driving, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Full Moon, Love Confessions, Love/Hate, M/M, Underage Drinking, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-14 01:09:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1247056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gippel/pseuds/Gippel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between Scott and Stiles, it's always been special. This could have gone forever, just an eternal spring filled with their laughs and the sparkles of their skins brushing past each other. Sometimes, however, breathes go loud, hearts go fast, and everything else just doesn't go as espected.</p><p>Everything begins a few weeks after Season 1...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of all the people, I hoped it'd be you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daunt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daunt/gifts).



> Hello everyone,  
> This is my second text, and it's dedicated to daunt, as her tumblr is he main reason i've fallen (sooo badly) in love with Sciles. It's mainly inspired by listening to _Foals_ ' song "Blue Blood", and I really hope you guys will like it.  
> Again, english isn't my mother tongue, so feel free to point some of my mistakes you'd notice, or even sentences making no sense at all ^^". Thank you for reading!

“Scott.”  
He just grumbles under his sheets loud enough for his mother to hear it behind the bedroom door.  
“Scott wake up. Lunch’s ready and I won’t eat my meat pie cold.”

As intended, these last words awake him completely and he is up bouncing in his jeans within seconds. He takes a quick look at the time on his cellphone and pouts, unhappy that he has wasted an entire morning in bed. He fell asleep around 4am, only once he was done struggling with the pale waxing gibbous. Full moon is for tonight.

He slept so deeply this morning he didn’t hear Stiles text arrive. As his best friend’s name appears on the small screen, he can’t help but grin, and grin wider as he scrolls through the words: _hey buddy, still coming over tonight? I’ve got chains, handcuffs and a special chew toy for you, it’s gonna be naughty! :D Seriously, don’t forget my chew toys._ Excited all alone in his room, he texts back, nibbling his lower lip mechanically: _sounds way too dirty, but coming anyway :P. Should be around by 4. Got the Doritos covered already._ He tries to wipe that smile off his face before rejoining his mother, not willing to be questioned about it. Obviously, he’s not able to do the same with the sparkles in his eyes.

“Hello sweetheart. What makes my early bird so perky?  
-Meat pie, he answers, voluntarily ignoring the allusion to his late awakening. You’re working tonight?  
-Yep. Wouldn’t have known what to do with my Saturday evening anyway. Why loose your time eating ice-cream in pyjamas when you can be checking at someone’s perfusion, right?”  
Melissa pauses to swallow the pie off her fork, as her son has already gulped a third of his plate.  
“So, what are you doing tonight?  
-Sleeping at Stiles’.”

With a little burn in her stomach, she lets her fingers run on the laminate wood table without a sound while selecting her approach.  
“You two are really inseparable, aren’t you?”  
Scott barely nods. It’s more a statement than a real question, and his phone just biped. Stiles again. _ur the best bro._ Here’s that grin again. And the brunette just knows who texted her son.  
“So tell me, it’s been a while since I haven’t heard about Allison.  
-Mum, we broke up 2 months ago.  
-I know, it’s just… I don’t know, you seemed so in love, and… Well, you seemed to get over it pretty fast…”  
He frowns.  
“You’d want me to whine about it?  
-No, of course no… God no! I’d have to hunt that pretty face down and bit the crap out of her.”  
She jeers as she always does when she’s joking to confuse the issue.

“No, I just didn’t understand what happened between the two of you.  
-It’s… complicated.”  
And as he says so, he can’t keep his eyes off his phone. God he’s just so obvious. She’s got to take the plunge.  
“Was there someone else…? Did you fall for another of your friends? A girl…? A boy…?  
-Mum, what the hell?!”  
It’s not as if Scott has a lot of boy friends she knows about; and crossing her look, he knows he has been cornered. His puppy-dog eyes chase for a way to conceal his embarrassment.

“It’s okay swee…  
-Mum, I’m not gay!”  
He can’t stay still in front of her. It would be difficult enough at any other time, and there’s the moon turning him into a bag of nerves. He goes for a yogurt in the fridge.  
“No it’s okay, I just wanted you to know that I’m okay with this and that whoever you love, you don’t have to hide it from me. I just want you to be happy, and to protect your heart. And well… you know… the rest!...  
-Mum!!  
-Okay, okay. I stop.  
-God…”  
His yogurt is fast engulfed, and he’s already regaining his room with that _fuck-my-teenager’s-life_ attitude he only uses to diffuse his shame.  
“Love you sweety!” she says as he disappears in the stairs.

Slamming his door, he crushes on his bead, sinks his face in his pillow and buries a grunted whine in his mattress. He knows he’s not been very convincing down there. He’s just not prepared for this; not now, not ever if he can manage. He still feels utterly ashamed whenever he is confronted so boldly, even though he has tried to handle it for years, since he first identified his feelings for Stiles actually. He had felt weird for months, couldn’t know why, feeling some dizziness in Stiles’ presence he had never felt before. And then one day Stiles arrives at school, steps out of the bus, glances around with a hand in his hair, and waves at Scott with a beam on his face, both as kind and as mischievous as usual. Scott understood instantly, put words on all his feelings and desires. Actually, it was so suddenly obvious to him that he felt dumb not to have realized it before.

But long is the way to acceptance, and it revealed much simpler to squash his needs as Stiles and he had always been everything to each other: classmates, friends, teammates, confidents, best friends, brothers. Stiles and he had always been very physical; his friend seemed to be in love with a girl completely out of his reach. This could have gone forever, just an eternal spring filled with their laughs and the sparkles of their skins brushing past each other. He could have contented himself with that. So even to himself, he masked the warm mud embedding his chest each time Stiles mentioned Lydia, and just enjoyed all he could get from him. Blurring and ignoring his desires, Scott eventually ended up tricking himself into loving Allison. He had new werewolf abilities, especially muscles and health he would have never dreamed of, and the world was his to claim. Of course, you can’t lie to yourself forever. He stepped out of his comfort zone; he was seeing Stiles more occasionally, she soon asked Scott for things he didn’t have to offer and he ended up forced to face reality. 

He can’t get Stiles’ scent out of his mind. He can smell it from the shirt his friend has forgotten hanged up behind the door of his room, and struggles with a fiery urge to get up and sniff it. It reminds him of the last time he saw his best friend – about 20 hours ago, which appears way too long to him – these inexhaustible energy and raw charm radiating from him as always. Scott never seems to get enough of it though. Even when others are unable to bear it anymore, even when he discourses on Lydia Martin’s beauty for the eighth time of the day, it still warms him up.

He hasn’t looked at his DailyWord yet. _Obsessional._ After going through the definition, he doesn’t bother to read the example. Whatever he does or thinks, it always seems to bring him back to Stiles, doesn’t it. His eyes linger on the digital clock: 1.30pm. A few pull-ups, a good shower, and he could be at Stiles’ around 3pm. His friend won’t sue him for being an hour in advance…

*****

“And BAM! Perfect.  
\- Dude, I don’t get it. How can you do this combo so often?  
\- This, my boy, is a skill that none of your werewolf talents can compensate. I’ve got the magic fingers!”  
Night has fallen. The colourless luminescence from the TV and the subdued luminosity of Stiles bedside lamp make Scott’s frown very eloquent.  
“You’ve got the magic fingers…  
\- Yep! answers Stiles with his _you-know-what-I’m-talking-about_ wally smile. Scott giggles in return.  
\- Well then use your natural talents to change the game, I’m bored of this one.  
\- Bored of… Since when is Scott McCall ever bored of Super Smash Bros?  
\- Since you’re beating me up 4 times in a row. Dude, I hate that freaking hammer! How can you have so much of them? Plus Kirby… I can’t do a thing.  
\- Hey come on buddy, it’s not my fault the hammers kept popping right up next to me. And I’ve got to take Kirby. I mean look at me: pink, cute and fluffy. All the same!” 

Here is that sly grin again. God he hates it. Actually he hates it because he likes it so much that he wants Stiles entirely and immediately. Thus he feels as an obligation to repress his joy in order to not give his feelings away, and only gives a little controlled smile in return. But then he is upset because he feels like he is voluntarily shutting Stiles away, and that is the last thing he wants, and his smile turns sour. And yes, such complicated thoughts sometimes cross Scott’s mind.

“You okay buddy?  
\- Yeah, just… you know, full moon…  
\- Ah yeah, I almost forgot you were menstruating tonight!  
\- Dude, gross.  
\- Hey, think about it: if…”

Scott hardly listens to Stile’s sarcastic blabbering about women’s menstruations and werewolves’ moon cycles comparison. His friend has got on all fours in front of the console to change the game, partly lifting up his shirt to scratch his shoulder blade. Involuntarily, he has unveiled the smooth skin of his lower back, making it incredibly attractive in the flickering gleam of the cathode-ray tube. And his passionate lips always seem to tempt Scott with their frenzied dance. It gets so hard sometimes…

“… so a girl being a werewo… What?  
\- What “What?”?  
\- Why do you have that smile?  
\- What smile?  
\- Come on Scott, I know you. You’ve got that smile that says _I’m barely listening to you but what’s in my head kicks asses_. So go on, share it with your best buddy here.”  
This actually makes Scott grin even wider.

“I’m just glad we’re getting so much of these nights lately. No psycho alpha murderer, no Hale drama, no hunter threat… Just you, me, and video games.  
\- Yeah, that’s quality time. Honestly, I- I really missed this when you were with Alisson…  
\- I know. I guess I... kinda got carried away. I swear I won’t put you aside like this again.  
\- Well, all in all, she was your girlfriend.  
\- I know but… You’re my bestfriend.”

He can hear how true Stiles’ heart beats as he nods in approval, and he feels a deep bright warmth settling in his insides when his friend’s hand grabs his shoulder and gently pats his neck. The young Stilinski gets back in his seat and for a while they play in silence. The moon gets higher and Scott focuses the best he can on the game, breathes slowly to steam off some of the astral pressure.

He makes his best not to heed Stiles’ movements teasing the corner of his eyes. But soon he can feel his friend stiffen and stress gradually by his side. What is happening? He can gather Stiles breathing getting louder and his heartbeat getting faster. It feels like static is growing between them and soon Scott starts showing the same symptoms. His friend’s smell is all around, obsessive, slowly shifting to muskier scents. Is it all in his head? Is he over-interpreting? However, he wants to believe that his friend experiences the same heart-shoking/breath-muddling/brain-sizzling thrill he is. They are only a feet apart. Should he make a move? Should he slightly move his tight to tickle Stiles’? Should he go for it and lean in for a kiss? Is he making it all up in his mind?! He probably is… But what if he isn’t?!

“Scott, buddy, we… we need to talk.”  
Stiles clears his throat, presses pause and looks his friend, all wound up.  
“You’re way too serious for this to be good…  
\- Shut up already, okay? It’s nothing easy to say. Shit…”  
He can’t look Scott in the eye. His jaw wriggles frenetically as he gazes absently at the frozen screen. Scott feels like his heart is about to burst out of his chest.  
“Okay, there’s something I’ve wanted to tell you for a while now… Fuck…”  
He hasn’t looked that worried for years, since his mother’s disease actually.  
“Buddy… I’m gay.”  
When finally he drops it, he looks back at Scott and he seems deeply sorry, almost guilty, and still so anxious he could be on the verge of a panic attack. His eyes glisten.

Scott can’t say a thing. He is paralysed. These are the words he has dreamt to hear for years, for so long actually that he now doubt they can be true. Is this one of Stiles’ joke? His chest hurts and he knows he would have needed his inhaler badly if this had happened a year before. He pushes his fists into his knees to stop himself from shaking.  
“Really?” he finally asks, a bit harsher than he would have liked to. He can’t say anything else, his whole body tensed like a drawn bow. He would like to spill it out right now, but he has erected so many barriers they can’t be torn down that easily.  
Stiles answers with a joyless smile.  
“Yes… Listen... I… I love…”  
For a second, their eyes meet and Scott feels like the world is coming to an end and their souls are about to land in heaven. Then Stiles heart misses a bit, his voice crackles, and he looks down as he says “I love Derek”.

And Scott’s wings burn. He can feel his heart sink in the mud, claws bringing it down. The moon light through the curtains suddenly becomes unbearable. He hasn’t felt that sad for years and dark blood foams loudly in his ears. It couldn’t be worse. His best friend, his brother, the boy he loves, is actually gay. All the time he hid his feelings, he understood “straight” Stiles to be unable to love him back, but “gay” Stiles… Shouldn’t he be able to see more in him than a friend? Shouldn’t he be preferred to a psychopath who never showed the slightest interest in Stiles and depraved Scott from his only chance to ever get human again? He feels betrayed, rejected, and so deeply sad; like he’s not interesting, like he’s not good enough, not worthy enough. The moon fills his head, and he feels shittier than ever, shredded between the wish to just weep like he never has and the burning desire to tear the world apart.

“It couldn’t be worse… he repeats aloud in a shuddering whisper.  
\- Scott?”  
Stiles’ voice gets flustered when Scott stands up. His golden eyes gleam in the midnight darkness and his fists are clenched as he tries to keep his claws from getting out, and he goes for the door. He can hardly notice how devastated Stiles sounds as he catches up with him on the doorstep, approaching a hand as he calls upon his friend once more. Scott repels his arm, knocking Stiles to the ground in his rage. He can feel his fangs widening his jaw and the wolf taking over, his coup supported by the full moon. “Am I that disgusting Stiles?” is the last thing he manages to express before storming out in the woods, his vision blurred red and anger fuelling his run.


	2. I walked into the haze, and a million dirty ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is it all… real? Did he just came out to his best friend, and got completely rejected? Is… Is it all over? Just like that?  
> Stiles feel sick. His mind works slow and the wooden floor beneath his fingers feels like plastic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so truly sorry about the time it took me to update this. Work, life, more work, you know what it's like. I'll try to do better for the 3rd chapter.  
> Hope you'll enjoy this one. God, this season 3b really left me with a lot of sciles feeling!

When the door slams open downstairs, Stiles is frozen on the ground where Scott has thrown him, lent on his elbow as he gazes vacantly at the doorstep of his room. Aghast, he can still see Scott’s silhouette as an afterglow shaking with anger, grunting something that just sounded like _disgusting_. Disgusting.

Is it all… real? Did he just came out to his best friend, and got completely rejected? Is… Is it all over? Just like that?

He can’t realize a thing, can’t feel a thing actually. His mind works slow and the wooden floor beneath his fingers feels like plastic. For all he knows, he could (he’d wish to) wake up any moment soon.

What did he just say? Maybe he said it wrong, maybe Scott got the message wrong.  
“Buddy… I’m gay.  
\- Really?  
\- Yes… Listen... I… I love…I love Derek”.  
At the thought of it, a terse bitter laugh escapes him. Derek. Derek who brought him into such situation. No, he definitely doesn’t love him.

*  


A few hours ago, Stiles had come up to his room after his breakfast, distractedly texting Scott before settling in front of his computer. After a few seconds of just staring at his desktop, he had gone sighing through some photos of Scott he keeps dearly, had begun to put a hand in his pants, before Derek finally decided to reveal his presence with a little throat clearing. Stiles jumped off so hard he knocked his chair over and banged his knee under his desk, swearing in the process.

“God, would you mind actually knocking on the door once in a while? said Stiles, placing himself between the new alpha and his computer screen. As if it would change anything…  
\- Well, I’m obviously disturbing you at a very personal time...”  
Stiles didn’t have anything to answer to that. Unless a hanging jaw, an approximate _yeah!_ and blushing cheeks are considered an answer.  
“That’s not what I’m here for anyway.”

Indeed, Derek just needed Stiles’ help with some computer stuff, and as always he needed it immediately, demanding a perfect response to his mysteriously evasive questions. Naturally, they both rapidly lost their tempers, and Stiles got his fare share of ice-cold stares. He was able to help Derek out nevertheless.

When Derek stepped out of the window, Stiles couldn’t help asking the question that had burnt his tongue and cheeks for the last half-hour.  
“So, about what you saw earlier…”  
Derek sighed in despair as he turned to the fidgety teenager.  
“Stiles, I’m not gonna tell him anything, I couldn’t care less about your love life...  
\- Thanks... I guess.  
\- But for what it’s worth, I think you should.  
\- Yeah! Coz that would be a pleasant conversation! No way I could lose my best friend ever and get him to hate me in the process!  
\- Well, I wouldn’t be so sure about that…  
\- What? What do you mean?... Do-Do I have a chance?! DEREK, DO…”  
Of course, Derek was already out of sight.

“Do I have a chance?...”  
And for the first time in months, he wondered about it. For as soon as Scott had got Allison, Stiles had lost all hope for it. These last months had been rough on him, even taking the whole werewolf thing apart. Before all this, he had got himself to think that Scott might love him back, even had settled a way to tell him. Then all of a sudden there was a body in the woods, Scott was a werewolf, had a hot girlfriend, made 1st line at lacrosse, and their lives had turned into a parade of people living in clans and dealing with deep anger management issues.

And weeks had past, Scott becoming sexier, more confident and charismatic with every day, talking about his profound love for Alison over and over as if she was the world’s 8th wonder, and it all sounded so sour to Stiles ears. All the times he had answered “I’m happy for you buddy”, all he could think about was _Please, please see me that way, please give that love to me_. And he had felt relieved when they broke up, and he had felt so nasty for it. Like he was betraying their friendship.

So even though he had settled his mind months ago about Scott not being into guys, Stiles hadn’t stop loving him for a second. He hated Derek for giving him hope once again, knowing that was vain, but he knew he had to tell Scott anyway. Finally hearing that _No_ might be the best chance he had to get over him. And who was he kidding; of course Scott wouldn’t reject him, for he had the most caring, loving heart Stiles had ever known.

*  


Or so he thought. Stiles feels sick. He panicked and only managed to tell half the truth to Scott, throwing Derek under the bus when his eyes met Scott’s and his will shuddered. And that was enough for Scott to get pissed, punch him and trigger his werewolf transformation. _It couldn’t be worse. Disgusting._

Stiles throws up. An orange acrid mix of bile and half-chewed chili flavoured chips. It came up so fast he barely had any time to move and his right leg bears the cost of it. His throat should hurt. It hurts a bit, vaguely, distantly. The wood under his fingers still feels like plastic. Everything does. Everything is false, it has to be. The only thing undeniably true is the drill digging his heart and stomach deeper with every passing minute.

He stays here for a while, staring vacantly at the puddle he made on the floor, catching his breath. He doesn’t think of anything really. His mind is just the muddled film of his memories with Scott. The good and the bad, the little daily pleasures and the threats they faced; Scott’s goofy expression in-between guilt and amusement each time Stiles looses patience; the way he used to lean on Stiles when he got breathless from ignoring his asthmatic condition; the way he now passes a distracted hand on his new built up torso, as if sometimes he still can’t believe it’s his. Everything illuminated and blurred by Scott gorgeous smile.

 _It’s all over. All of this._ And the drill digs deeper. He can’t stand it, he can’t stay here, in his room full of reminiscences and fantasies. Scott… He gets up, staggers to the stairs then to the kitchen table, fetch his keys, grabs the bottle of Jack Daniel’s the Sheriff left on the counter. He doesn’t even notice the light drizzle on his face as he heads for his Jeep, can’t help but to picture Scott leant against the car door with his back pack. By the time he gets off the driveway, he has already knocked back a double. He winces as the bourbon burns his sensitized throat, riding his tongue of the vomit bitterness.

His head feels like it’s asking to be banged on the wall. He’s got to leave; he’s got to drive, and drive fast. The one thing Stiles doesn’t want right now is to think. He’s got to keep his mind occupied, accelerate so he’s got to focus on the road, so he can’t string proper thoughts together, so Scott gets to be nothing more than a name repeated in his mind like a mantra. He gets out of Beacon Hills, and it feels good, and it hurts. The air comes chill through the ajar window. He goes faster.

As he does, he can hear Scott blabbering in his head about driving safely, about some poor dog that arrived at Deaton’s the other day with a crushed paw and tail because of some silly driver. He gets a mouthful of whisky, he’s got lead in his stomach.

His eyes linger on the passenger seat as he puts the bottle back on; he can totally picture Scott asleep on it, wrapped up in one of his checkered shirt with the street light on his face. “I truly fucking love you, you know?” he says, talking so low the words don’t even reach his own ears. _Disgusting._ He strikes the wheel in anger, he’s got tears in his eyes.

It’s raining a bit more, and he turns the wipers on. The drops resonate inside the jeep with a metallic note he knows Scott loves. For it means that while the night is dark and cold, he is safe, sound and dry.  
“You feel like you’re on an island, you know? he told Stiles a few months ago, when they were just two common teenagers, as they were having curly fries in the car by a stormy night. Everything looks like its falling apart, like it’s going to be drowned, but you’re in the center of it and you’re safe. It makes me feel euphoric.”  
Stiles had gulped a handful of potatoes with an ironic smirk.  
“Ah Scotty, we can really count on you to save the world, can’t we?”  
As usual, Scott had let it slip.  
“No I- I feel like we’re isolated you know, like it’s just the two of us against the whole storm. I like that…”  
His crooked grin was radiant, and Stiles chest tightened a bit.  
“Yeah… I like that too…”

That night, they listened to the sound of the rain for a long time after all fries where eaten, and Stiles imprinted Scott’s silhouette outlined on the window, the shadow of his smile glowing in the dark. It’s one of his favourite moments, one of those he recalls almost daily to remember himself that even if Scott doesn’t love him back in the exact same way, it’s them against the storm, always.

But not this time. _It couldn’t be worse_. And gripping the wheel way stronger than needed, Stiles joints’ turn white and he begins to sob silently. He is soon overwhelmed though, and he lets out his crying louder than he has for a long time. He stinks vomit and alcohol, he can't stop crying, he feels so pathetic... He can’t take it! Being rejected, like that, by Scott… It can’t be, it’s carving his heart out of his chest, for god sake it hurts so freaking much!

His eyes filled with never-ending tears, he is shaking behind the wheel and slows down as the rain goes even louder on the roof. He’s tired, and probably a lot less sober than he cares to admit. But when the next curve comes, his wheels are sodden; his reactions are too slow, his car moves too late. And even then, as the Jeep roles over, tumbles into a tree, bends and go still in a grisly crack, Stiles’ mind is filled with Scott’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had AaRON's _Arm you eyes_ in the head during the whole writing. Listen to it, it really is a good one!  
>  Once again, please feel free to comment/correct my english.  
> See you soon with chapter 3 ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you've liked it. Second chapter should be coming soon (it's all in my mind!! I can see it !!!!)  
> Thanks again for reading.


End file.
